DANIEL MCCLOUD

While scrolling through my Facebook account, I noticed an ad for a new African-American horror anthology titled “Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror.” I have always been a fan of the horror genre, and since the book is edited by Jordan Peele, who is most famously known as the director of the horror classic “Get Out” and, to a lesser degree, his sophomore effort, “Us,” I ordered it.

As I began reading the book, I began to ponder the role and significance of the horror subgenre of Black Horror. The topic of Black Horror, specifically as related to film, has been explored before, most recently in the excellent documentary “Horror Noire: A History of Black Horror.” The documentary traces the role that African Americans have played in horror films, including playfully pointing out the fact that for years, one common theme of Blacks in horror films was the Black characters were always the first to die, which can be a commentary itself. That will be examined later. The documentary provided countless examples of traditional horror films with Black actors with an antagonist, typically of the supernatural variety. But the documentary dove more profoundly in examining the intersection of certain Black horror films and the African American experience in this country. The point is that the lived experience of African Americans itself can be horrific and terrifying.

Recent films have sought to illustrate these themes in sophisticated, subtle ways. Films such as the aforementioned movie “Get Out” is a prime example. According to Jordon Peele, his film was meant to challenge the experience of being an African American male in America. Peele said the film sought to “expose the lie of post-racial America.” Peele’s statement conveyed that despite the election of America’s first Black president, the issue of race remains ever-present in this country, particularly from political, social, and economic frameworks. “Get Out” and other films of this sub-genre that focus on this intersectionality seek to have the viewer see the world through the eyes of the Black characters as they navigate the world, seeking the peace that can only be found when left alone. In these films, the antagonists are not monsters in a literal sense but rather humans. The physical pain in traditional horror films is often replaced by the psychological pain of bias, bigotry, and prejudices exhibited by these “ordinary folk.” Black horror is a young Black male being pulled over by police or a Black family moving into an all-white neighborhood. Often, the anticipation of the trauma that can ensue from these instances based solely on a historical perspective is enough to induce a certain level of anxiety and trauma associated with horror.

So, If these films are art imitating life, then the question arises as to whether the characters in these films can be safe since the basis for their trauma is someone’s disdain for their existence. Based on this premise, the only way to escape the “monster” is to fall victim or assimilate, which means losing life or identity. The former represents death, while the latter can be worse than death. It is an admission that the “ordinary people,” the monsters, are correct when we are somehow less than them. This notion is indeed an unimaginable horror and, of course, unacceptable.

Unlike the earlier horror films featuring Black actors, the protagonists in these films are not the first to die. They are resilient, persevere, and are the last ones standing as the credits role, giving hope to all.